


Lay Your Hands On Me

by flawedamythyst



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 5+1 Things, Accidental molestation, M/M, Mile High Club, Safehouses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2019-07-09
Packaged: 2020-04-06 13:00:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19063204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flawedamythyst/pseuds/flawedamythyst
Summary: 5 times Clint held Bucky’s cock and one time he held his hand.Huge love to Kangofucb and Nny, who took an idle question and gave the best possible responses.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [I Wanna Hold Your](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19055524) by [Nny](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nny/pseuds/Nny). 



It was possible that Clint had dressed more to impress Bucky than he had to fit the mission, but all Bucky did was sweep his eyes over Clint and then give a nod of approval before turning back to looking over the plans of the club they were infiltrating, so it might have been wasted effort. They’d arrived in Rio late the night before and spent most of the day going over their plans, but apparently Bucky still had things to look at on the blueprints.

“Ready to go?” asked Clint, resisting the urge to readjust the crotch of his pants. Man, he hadn’t realised just how tight they were until he tried to move in them.

“Yeah,” said Bucky, not bothering to look back at Clint before he headed for the door. His pants were nowhere near as tight as Clint’s but they still nicely framed his ass, and the red shirt he was wearing with them was strained across his shoulders. Clint took his chance to get in a nice, long look before they headed out and he had to concentrate on the mission.

It was pretty easy. Infiltrate a funk club that was the front for a Comando Vermelho gang cell who were acting as an intermediary in a sale of AIM weapons to Hydra, get the blueprints of the weapons and the details of the exchange off their hard drive, and then get the fuck out without getting caught because if AIM or Hydra knew that SHIELD were on to them, the deal would be off and they’d lose their chance to catch them. Childsplay for two experienced agents like Hawkeye and the Winter Soldier.

Of course, it would have been easier if Clint wasn’t having to fight the distraction of his ridiculous crush on Bucky the whole time they were in the club, faking a good time so hard that they ended up on the dancefloor, bodies moving together to the music as they both kept an eye out for a chance to slip out the back.

Clint really should have thought about how well his pants would hide a boner before he put them on.

“Come on,” muttered Bucky, as the back door opened and a phalanx of shady-looking guys headed out. “It’s clear.”

Clint followed him through the dancing crowd, sliding between gyrating bodies and grinning at everyone who took the chance to grab his ass. At least these pants were being appreciated by someone, even if Bucky apparently didn’t care about how hot Clint looked in them.

SHIELD had managed to get the code for the door lock but there were a couple of bouncers around the place that would probably notice them tapping it in and going through. They’d probably also notice them hanging around the door suspiciously, waiting for their chance to sneak through, so there was going to have to be some kind of subterfuge. That was cool, Clint could do that. He was a secret agent, after all.

“Don’t freak out,” he said to Bucky, and pushed him up against the door, crowding in close. Bucky went very tense for a moment, then caught on, relaxing back and slipping his arms around Clint’s waist as if they were just sharing a romantic moment. He looked up at Clint with a flirty smirk as he said, “I’ll let you know when they look away.”

“Sure,” said Clint, putting one hand down by the keypad and the other on Bucky’s shoulder. Bucky’s eyes were half-lidded and he had a lazy smile that Clint wanted so desperately to kiss off his face. “Just pretend I’m whispering sweet nothings to you.”

Bucky snorted. “You seem more like the kinda guy who’d be driving me mad with dirty talk before you dragged me off somewhere private to make good on your promises.”

Ah, fuck. Clint drew in a breath that he really hoped would steady him against the wave of arousal. “Yeah, that does sound like me.”

Bucky nodded a little, eyes flicking over Clint’s shoulder. “Do it now,” he said, and it took Clint a half-second longer than it should have to realise that meant he should tap in the code, not take Bucky off to the washroom for a quick blowjob.

He punched it in and the lock clicked open, and they let themselves follow after as the door opened, then shut it as soon as they were through. Clint forced himself to get back into mission mode because they only had one shot at this, and he wasn’t going to be the one that fucked it up.

The back areas of the club were something of a warren, but they already knew which room had the computer with all the information, and the quickest way there. Once inside, Bucky handed Clint a flash drive and then watched the door while Clint downloaded the data.

“You got it?” he whispered after a couple of minutes.

“It’s just transferring, give me a chance,” muttered Clint.

Bucky shifted with impatience. “Those guys were only going to be gone fifteen or twenty minutes.”

“I know, I know,” said Clint. “It’s coming, just- There.” He pulled the drive out of the computer and turned back to Bucky. “Got it.”

Bucky glanced at him and nodded, then opened the door and they crept back out, towards the exit.

Except before they could get there, there was the sound of the door opening and footsteps thumping through, along with voices chatting loudly in Portuguese.

Clint and Bucky both immediately turned about, jogging to the other end of the corridor and around a corner.

“What now?” hissed Clint as they passed by a couple of storage rooms.

“The service door,” said Bucky, and darted into one of the rooms.

The door they’d come through wasn’t the only door into the gang’s part of the club, but they’d dismissed the other one when they were planning because it led to the employee-only areas of the club and they’d have had to sneak in there first, before sneaking into the gang’s area. As an exit strategy, though, it was a lot better than hanging around now the gang were all back.

Bucky opened the door a crack and took a look out before opening it the whole way, gesturing Clint after him and then shutting the door. They were in a storage room filled with stock for the bar and Clint thought about snagging a beer as they passed through, but his pants were too tight for him to put the flash drive in his pockets, so he was already holding one thing in his hands. Adding a beer bottle or two was only going to leave him juggling shit when he should be acting like a professional in front of Bucky.

The storage room door opened onto a corridor. Clint could see what looked like a break room opposite, a door back into the club at the end nearest them, and an outside exit at the far end.

“Let’s get out of here,” said Bucky, and started for the outside door which, of course, was when the door from the club started to open.

Bucky reacted before Clint could do more than think _oh shit_ , pushing Clint back against the wall and pressing his face into his neck as he clung to Clint’s hips. Clint wrapped his arms around him automatically, then spread his legs enough for Bucky to slide a thigh between them.

This was either the worst mission Clint had ever been on, or the best.

“Hey!” said a voice, and Clint glanced over to see one of the bouncers advancing on them. Right, of course it couldn’t have just been bar staff. “What are you two doing here?”

Fuck. If he got even a hint of what Clint and Bucky had been up to, the gang would spook and tell Hydra and AIM that the meeting was off.

“Jus’ having a little private time,” said Bucky in the best impression of a fucked out drunken drawl Clint had ever heard. His cock twitched in his pants and he hoped like hell Bucky wasn’t pressed close enough to notice.

“This is a private area!” said the bouncer and, shit, he was moving closer. “You need to go home for that shit. Come on, get out of here.”

Clint still had the flash drive clutched in his hand. If the guy got too close, he was going to see it, and there was nowhere for Clint to put it while he was wearing these ridiculous pants. Well, nowhere on his person, anyway.

“We just need a couple of minutes,” said Clint in his own drunken slur, petting at Bucky’s head as if he were trying to pull him in for a kiss. “So close, just need…”

He let his words trail off, fixed Bucky with a look that he hoped read _don’t kill me_ , then shoved his hand down the front of Bucky’s pants.

Bucky jolted like an electric shock had gone through him, but he didn’t pull away and the look of drunken seduction on his face barely flickered.

“Hey, none of that!” said the bouncer. “You need to get out of here before I throw you out!”

Clint could feel Bucky’s cock, warm and half-hard in his briefs, and that was a sensation that was going to stay with him for a long time. He tucked the flashdrive next to it, where hopefully the bulge would be camouflaged, and dragged his hand back out, turning to give the bouncer a pout.

“You’re no fun, man.”

“No,” agreed the bouncer. “Get out of here. Seriously, if I have to throw you out, I will not be gentle.”

“C’mon, Eddie, let’s get back to the hotel,” said Bucky, grabbing Clint’s hand with a grip tight enough to hurt and dragging him towards the door.

He kept hold of Clint all the way through the club, although it felt more like being a child dragged home by an angry parent than a lover eager to get some alone time.

Well, whatever. They’d got out of there with the data, and with no one any the wiser. Clint had always figured that as long as the mission was a success, the actual methods didn’t matter so much.

Plus, now he knew that Bucky got kinda excited on missions, and that his cock definitely stood up to all of Clint’s many and varied daydreams, so that was some fantasy material right there. Totally worth having to try and explain this in his post-mission report.


	2. Chapter 2

“You’re not going to be able to sort that out yourself,” said Clint as Bucky splayed his legs to inspect the bleeding gash high up on the inside of his thigh. So high up that when the Comando Vermelho thug had got in a lucky slice with his knife, Clint had genuinely thought he was ending Bucky’s chances of having little super-soldiers.

Bucky glared up at him from the bed. “I know,” he growled as if it were Clint’s fault, which seemed a bit harsh. Clint let it go, because he figured having come that close to losing your nuts was enough to make anyone grumpy.

SHIELD hadn’t sent them to the meet up between Hydra and AIM, because the data they’d downloaded had revealed that the Comando Vermelho had been paid for their services in the kind of weapons that no one wanted involved in the next bout of gang warfare. Clint and Bucky had been sent to the small town a couple of hours from Rio where the gang had their stronghold, which they had infiltrated and blown up, along with all the weapons.

It hadn’t been the most flawlessly carried out mission, though. One of the weapons the gang had got from Hydra had been some sort of targeted EMP dart, and one of the gang members had got Bucky’s metal arm with it, turning it to dead weight so quickly that he’d been tipped off-balance, mid-fight, which had allowed another asshole to slice him up.

Clint dropped into a crouch to rummage through his bag. He pulled out his first aid kit and turned back to the bed, where Bucky was opening up his fly one-handed and still scowling. 

Yup, that was the hottest guy Clint had ever met, taking his pants off on a bed and waiting for Clint to come and bend over his crotch.

Clint was still very torn on whether this was the best mission ever or the worst.

“It’s bleeding again,” he said as Bucky tried to get his pants off one-handed, wriggling his hips as if that were a good idea. For now, his metal arm just hung uselessly at his side, dragging down his shoulder, but Bucky seemed pretty confident that it would come back to life in an hour or two. Clint had a feeling he’d had first-hand experience with that weapon before, which could only have been while he was actually working for Hydra and, fuck, Clint hated them so much. 

Bucky turned his scowl on him. “You don’t need to point out every time it starts bleeding,” he muttered.

“You don’t have to keep moving around so it starts bleeding again,” said Clint, dropping the kit on the bed and batting Bucky’s hand out of the way. “Let me do that. If you keep bleeding out, you’re gonna need a transfusion, and we’re not exactly set up for that.”

Bucky let out a long, pained sigh, but obligingly moved his hand out of the way, rolling his eyes up at the ceiling while Clint pulled down his pants and trying very hard not to think about the expanse of thighs he was uncovering.

Bucky lifted his legs so that Clint could pull the pants all the way off and dump them on the floor. Between the rip from the knife and the blood, they were definitely toast now. He looked at Bucky, forcing himself to concentrate on the blood seeping from the nasty cut on his leg rather than anything that might end up in his daydreams.

Christ, Bucky really had come within half a inch of castration. The cut went right up to his underwear, which was also soaked with blood.

“Yeah, these need to come off to,” said Clint, touching the waistband of Bucky’s underwear and trying to keep his voice as calm as possible. He’d patched up all kinds of weird wounds in odd places over the years, usually on himself but he’d helped out other agents as well. He was not going to lose his shit over this one.

“Seriously?” said Bucky, but he let Clint hook his fingers in them and drag them down, apparently shameless about being naked in front of him.

“I’m not half-assing fixing up Captain America’s best friend,” said Clint, because he needed to remember that Steve would find out if he got inappropriate over this, and would give him his disappointed face.Thinking about that should be enough to keep Clint’s mind focused on medical care, and not on Bucky’s cock which was _right there_ , resting softly against his thigh but still large enough to make Clint’s libido prick up.

Bucky rolled his eyes, spreading his legs and glaring down at the cut, lifting the hem of his shirt to expose it better and, yup, there were his abs. Good god. “It just needs a wash and a bandage,” he said. “It’ll be healed in a couple of days.”

“A couple of days we may be spending running about with bad guys on our tail,” said Clint, sorting through the first aid kit and hoping his ears weren’t as red as they felt. Fuck, Bucky was acting like this was nothing, he had to do the same. He was just stitching a cut up, a cut that could be anywhere on Bucky’s body. He pulled out antiseptic wipes and a suture kit, and Bucky sighed.

“I fucking hate stitches,” he muttered. “They just have to be taken out again.”

“Right,” agreed Clint. “Once you’re all healed up. Rather than you just never healing up because you keep pulling it open so you lose too much blood and die.”

“I had no idea you were such a mother hen,” said Bucky, spreading his legs wider so that Clint could get between them and Jesus fucking Christ, Clint was definitely going to be thinking about that next time he was on his own long enough to jerk off.

“You’re meant to be watching my back,” said Clint, starting to clean out the wound and trying to pretend he couldn’t see Bucky’s thigh muscles twitching from the antiseptic. “The gang are going to be looking for us. Besides, it’s nice not being the one being patched up for once.”

He’d been pleasantly surprised when he realised he’d got out of the gang’s base without more than a couple of bruises, and even more so when Buckyy pressed the button on the explosives and the resulting mess distracted the remaining gang members from coming after them. It wasn’t often a mission ended this well for him.

Bucky let out a very long sigh, as if the whole of existence was exhausting, then leant back, settling his weight on his hand. His metal arm was resting lifelessly on the mattress beside him, and Clint had noticed he’d been doing his best not to look at it.

“You’re sure that will come back on its own?” he asked, as much to distract them both from what he was doing as because he was worried. “We can call in to the Tower and ask Tony about it.”

“No point,” said Bucky. “It just takes a while to reboot when it goes down like this. Hydra made sure it would come back from it when they were testing that gun.”

There was a bleak tone to his voice that made Clint wince as he carefully worked up the cut, cleaning it as he went and checking just how deep it was, and how many stitches he was likely to need. “Fucking assholes,” he muttered, thinking about how much he’d have liked to have been on the Strike team at their meet-up with AIM so that he could have shot a few Nazis.

He totally blamed his distraction for what he did next.

Bucky’s cock was hanging right between his legs, blocking Clint’s access to the top of the cut. Without even thinking about it, he just picked it up and moved it to rest on Bucky’s other thigh, out of the way.

Bucky sucked in a sharp breath and Clint froze up. “Oh shit,” he said. “Sorry, sorry, probably should have asked first or, you know, let you do that, shit, sorry.”

Bucky snorted out a half-laugh, and he tipped his head back to look at the ceiling again. “Don’t worry about it, that just seems to be how this mission is going for me.”

Clint winced. “Sorry,” he muttered, focusing back on the cut and reminding himself, yet again, that he needed to not be a perv about this.

Fuck, and this safehouse was ridiculously small, with only three rooms and, crucially, only one bed. If Clint couldn’t even stitch the poor guy back together without getting inappropriate, how the hell was he meant to last a couple of nights sleeping in the same bed?


	3. Chapter 3

The first night wasn’t that bad, largely because they were both exhausted and Bucky was recovering from his injury. They both pretty much crawled into bed with a minimum of awkwardness and passed out. When Clint woke up, the morning was late enough to be verging on lunchtime and it looked like Bucky had been up for hours.

It was the next night that was the tricky one. It was a long day in the safe house with nothing to do but try to ignore how much Clint wanted to just climb Bucky like a tree. The whole town either worked for the Comando Vermelho or were scared enough of them to pass on any information immediately, and they’d all be keeping an eye out for the guys who blew up their stronghold. Clint and Bucky had tickets for a train back to Rio but that was in two days time, and Clint wasn’t sure how he was going to last two nights sleeping beside Bucky, or two days of trying to entertain each other without Clint giving in and just suggesting sex.

Fuck, but two days of sex with Bucky would go by so quickly.

When they eventually admitted the day was over and wandered through the rituals of getting to bed, Clint wasn’t nearly as tired as he’d wanted to be before lying down next to Bucky when he wasn’t allowed to touch.

“Hey,” he asked as he climbed under the covers, trying to cover his twitchiness, “you’re not going to murder me if I start snoring, are you?”

“That wouldn’t be murder,” said Bucky, climbing in his side with a casual air, as if he did this all the time, “that would be justifiable homicide.”

Clint sighed, flopping down onto the pillow. “Cool, I’ll look forward to that, then.” If Bucky did murder him in his sleep, at least that meant he wouldn’t have to do this again tomorrow night.

Bucky flicked off the light and lay down, turning his back towards Clint. “Night,” he said, and apparently dropped off almost immediately.

Clint let out a very long sigh, his right hand itching with how easy it would be to reach over and ‘accidentally’ touch Bucky. It was going to be a long night.

****

When he woke up he was cosy and warm, and never wanted to move.

“Clint,” said a careful voice, but it was somewhere in the awake world, and Clint wasn’t interested in it. He’d been dreaming of...something. Something relaxed and filled with light, with someone at his side laughing at his jokes. He clung on to the fog of sleep, trying to pull it back over himself so he could get back there.

“Clint,” said the voice again, slightly louder.

It was coming from the warm body that lay in Clint’s arms. He made a noise that he hoped conveyed that it was time to be quiet so he could sink back into the dream and pressed his face into the warm cotton in front of him. The body twitched as if considering moving away and Clint didn’t want that. If he had to move right now he’d wake up properly, and then he’d definitely not get back to his dream.

He gave whatever was under his hand a little squeeze, hoping to calm the body in his arms enough to just stay still, and abruptly became aware of three things, like a bucket of cold water crashing through his sleepiness.

The body in his arms was Bucky’s, he’d just sucked in a very sharp breath, and Clint’s hand was lying on his crotch.

Well, _lying on_ wasn’t quite right anymore. Now it was definitely _cupped around_ , and it was very specifically around Bucky’s cock.

“Fuck!” said Clint, letting go and rolling away as quickly as he could. “Fuck, man, I am so fucking sorry, that was- I was having a dream.”

“Yeah, I could tell,” said Bucky and Jesus Christ, Clint was going to have to dig a hole and live in it forever to get away from this moment.

Bucky cleared his throat and sat up, swinging his legs out of bed. “I’m gonna have a shower.”

He disappeared into the bathroom while Clint was still trying to catch his breath from the suddenness of his wake-up call.

Shit, it didn’t matter if Clint snored or not tonight. Bucky was definitely going to murder him in his sleep.

And, yeah, it would be totally justified.


	4. Chapter 4

Bucky miraculously didn't murder Clint in his sleep the next night, or the one after. He also didn't go to bed until after Clint was asleep, and was up before Clint woke up.

If he'd even gone to sleep at all. Clint wouldn't have blamed him for keeping his distance. 

Bucky disappeared into the bathroom to take his stitches out the morning they were due to leave, refusing Clint's offer of help and, yep, he was definitely filing a restraining order once they got back to New York. Clint couldn't even really blame him. 

Fuck, Steve was going to kill him. 

Their train back to Rio left just after lunch. They left it as late as possible before leaving the safehouse and darting through back alleys, trying to keep out of sight, but they still had to wait a couple of minutes on the platform for the train, and Clint felt horribly exposed. They were both wearing hats and glasses and doing their best to blend in, but he didn't relax until they were on the train and it was pulling away from the station. 

"Okay," he said, glancing at their itinerary. "Three hours on the train, then we get off at Rio airport and it's another couple of hours until our flight. We should be back in New York early tomorrow morning."

"Okay," said Bucky, looking about as happy as Clint was to be spending the next fifteen hours travelling. Clint was usually pretty good at sleeping on planes, but he had a feeling that having Bucky pressed next to him in the too-small economy seats they'd been booked would keep at least one part of him wide awake for the whole flight.

Even sitting next to him on the train, which had wider seats, was putting them in closer proximity than Bucky was probably happy about. Clint had tried to squeeze up against the window as much as possible, but their thighs were still resting together. 

God, it was hot. Or was that just Clint? Bucky shifted to pull his book out of his pocket, pressing their shoulders together for a moment, and Clint had to take a deep breath, staring outside at the landscape flashing past and trying very hard not to think about just leaning over and resting his head on Bucky’s shoulder.

He was being ridiculous. He just needed some air. He reached up to open the window.

The door to the carriage opened and the inspector came through, calling something in Portuguese that was almost certainly 'Tickets, please.'

Ah crap. Where had Clint put his ticket?

Clint and Bucky were the closest passengers to the door, so of course Clint didn’t have time to do more than start patting at his pockets before the inspector was right there in the aisle, giving them an expectant look.

It wasn’t in Clint’s jacket pockets, not even the inside one where he usually put travel paperwork.

Bucky had pulled his ticket right out, of course, because he was an organised motherfucker. The inspector glanced at it for a moment, then turned his gaze on Clint.

Right, okay, it had to be here somewhere. It wasn’t in his jeans pockets, maybe he’d put it back in his bag? He pulled his backpack into his lap and started going through the side pockets on it. Passport, plane tickets, three old subway tickets from New York, the receipt for the sandwich he’d bought five days ago in Rio, an arrow head that he had more sense that to pull out into the light.

“Un minuto,” he muttered as he failed to find it. Shit, no, that was Spanish, not Portuguese. Close enough? 

The inspector shifted his weight pointedly, and from the look on his face, the Spanish hadn’t gone down at all well. Clint tried out a lukewarm smile as he tried the last pocket of his bag.

Nothing.

Fuck, he wouldn’t have put it in the main bit, not with all the weaponry and things he didn’t want on display in a train station.

Bucky made a very low, irritated noise as Clint dumped the bag back down by his feet and then had another go through his pockets. Maybe he’d just missed it the first time?

“If we get thrown off this train…” Bucky muttered.

Clint did his best to ignore him. Okay, definitely not in his jacket pockets, or his front jeans pockets- Oh. He lifted off the seat enough to reach into his back pocket and, yup, there it was. He pulled it out with a triumphant grin, waving it aloft with success.

Which was when there was a gust of wind from the open window that pulled it from his fingers, because that was just how Clint’s life went. He grabbed for the ticket as it fluttered down through the air, darting his hand after it on instinct and without properly considering where the wind had taken it because of _course_ it had gone straight towards Bucky’s crotch as if pulled by a magnet.

Bucky just groaned and dropped his head into his hands when Clint’s fingers slipped between his legs before he could stop them and, yup, that was the shape of Bucky’s cock pressing against Clint’s hand.

Fuck, how did this keep happening?

“Sorry,” he spluttered, yanking his hand back with the ticket in it. “Fuck, Bucky, I’m so sorry.”

Bucky didn’t react. He just kept his face in his hands as the inspector took the ticket off Clint with a grimace that might have been concealing a laugh, then headed off to the next passenger.

“Sorry,” Clint added again once the inspector was gone.

Bucky just shook his head very slowly. “Are you doing this on purpose?” he muttered, then dropped his hands and turned to give Clint a very tired look. “Because it would be great if you could stop before you completely shred my sanity.”

Clint slumped. “Sorry,” he muttered, miserably. He’d known from the start that he and Bucky were never going to be an actual thing but he’d been hoping, so hard, that he could at least manage friendship. It figured that he’d manage to fuck that up this badly. “I swear, it’s not on purpose, I’m just a fuck up. They’ve all been accidents.”

Well, mostly. The first time had had a bit more intention behind it but only at the last second, when there hadn’t been any other way out of the situation.

Bucky let out a long sigh and tipped his head back against the seat. “Yeah, I know,” he said, still sounding exhausted. “It’d be easier to deal with if you were doing it on purpose.”

“Because you could just shoot me in the face?” suggested Clint. “I mean, you could do that anyway, if I end up somehow doing it again.”

God, he hoped he didn’t end up doing it again.

Bucky snorted. “No way. You think I want Natasha after me?” He glanced over at Clint with a smirk that made Clint think that maybe he hadn’t completely destroyed their friendship just yet. “Nah, if it happens again, I’ll just return the favour. See how you like being groped at random.”

Clint’s brain took a second to process that. Ah crap, and now a deeply buried part of him was plotting ways to grab Bucky’s cock again, while making it look like an accident. “Uh,” he said, “not sure that would exactly be a disincentive.”

Bucky straightened up, turning to properly stare at him. “What?” he managed, and Clint just gave him a helpless shrug. “Fuck,” said Bucky. “That would have been a much better way to spend the time we were stuck in that safehouse.”

Which, of course, was when the door to the carriage was thrown open and four massive guys wearing the sigil of the Comando Vermelho came bursting in, guns in their hands, along with the ticket inspector, who pointed at Clint and Bucky and shouted something in Portuguese that Clint didn’t need to understand to know was bad news.

He and Bucky both dropped to the ground, pulling out their weapons as the rest of the carriage emptied and bullets started flying. Fucking gang members always had the worst timing.


	5. Chapter 5

They ended up having to jump off the train to get away from the gang members on the train, landing in a patch of woods outside a small town where Clint stole them a car. They needed to get to the airport before their flight left or they'd be stuck in the country for another night, and Clint was so done with this mission.

They made it to the airport with barely enough time to rush through security and sprint across the terminal to their gate. They got on the plane just before the attendants closed the door, Clint gasping for breath while Bucky and his supersoldier lungs were fine.

Asshole.

The plane started taxiing as soon as their belts were clipped shut, and Clint slumped back against his seat, taking a moment to relax. “Thank fuck,” he said. “I didn’t think this clusterfuck was ever going to end.”

“Yeah,” said Bucky, sounding just as done with the whole thing.

They sat in a shared relieved silence as the plane took off. It wasn’t until the wheels were off the ground and they were in the air that Clint felt himself fully relax.

“Hey, do me a favour,” said Bucky, and Clint rolled his head to look at him without having to lift it off the seat. “Don’t tell Steve I jumped off the train.”

Clint pictured the likely reaction to that given how weird Steve still was about Bucky and trains. “Deal,” he said. “If you don’t tell Nat that I went on an infiltration mission without anywhere to hide the data.”

Bucky snorted. “Don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said. “You had my pants to hide it in, what more did you need?”

“Yeah, not sure she’d see it like that,” said Clint, grinning at the implication that Bucky wasn’t going to hold a grudge.

His mind took that chance to remind him of the conversation they’d started on the train and not been able to finish. He’d been doing his best not to think about it while they had to concentrate on getting out of the country, but now they were free and clear it was pretty much all he could think about. Bucky had heavily implied that he’d be okay with Clint getting inside his pants in a completely different way to hiding a flash drive in there. 

The plane levelled out and the seatbelt sign turned off. Clint looked up at it, then over at Bucky to see him looking back. “So, uh, on the train,” he said, then stalled, because how the hell did he ask this without sounding like an idiot or pissing Bucky off?

Bucky’s mouth twitched into a grin. “I stand by what I said,” he said, in a low voice. “The next time you put your hand on my dick, I’m gonna return the favour.”

Well, that was pretty unambiguous. Clint cleared his throat because his mouth had gone dry then, without looking away from Bucky’s eyes, reached over and placed his hand in Bucky’s lap, curling his palm around the shape of Bucky’s cock as it twitched.

“Yeah, okay,” said Bucky, in a voice rough enough to do things to Clint that he was pretty sure weren’t decent in public. Bucky glanced around at the other passengers sitting near them, then clicked open his belt. “Give it a minute, then follow me,” he said, and got up, heading for the bathrooms.

Fuck. Fuck, this was actually happening.

Bucky disappeared into the furthest cubicle and Clint took a deep breath, glancing around to make sure no one was watching. Most people were focused on settling in for the flight.

He barely made it to thirty seconds before he was up out of his seat and following after Bucky, heart in his mouth and already turned on an insane amount.

He slipped into the cubicle and pulled the door shut behind him, locking it before he let himself really take in just how small the space was, and how close that meant he was to Bucky.

“Hi,” he said, probably sounding pretty dumb, but this whole thing was making him feel dumb.

“Hi,” returned Bucky with a grin, then he put an arm around Clint’s waist and tugged him in closer, and kissed him.

It was hot and heavy, and Clint pressed into it, letting out all the pent-up tension of the last few days. As their mouths moved together, he couldn’t hold in a moan of approval, deep in his chest, and then Bucky’s hand was resting on his fly, cupping around Clint’s growing erection through his pants.

“Let me,” he said, against Clint’s lips. “Come on, time for me to repay you for all the groping.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” said Clint, reaching down to start on his fly, but Bucky just batted his hands out of the way.

“Nope, you’ve done enough, my turn now,” he said, flicking open the button and pulling down the zipper with rushed movements, then plunging his hand down Clint’s underwear to take a firm grasp on his cock.

“Oh fuck,” gasped Clint, squeezing his eyes shut as the sensation of Bucky’s hand around his dick rushed through him. “Oh fuck, yes, please.”

“Shut up, you’re gonna get us caught,” muttered Bucky, and he fastened his mouth over Clint’s again as his hand started moving, pulling on Clint’s cock with long, firm pulls.

After the adrenaline of the last few hours and all the shit that had happened before it, not to mention the excitement of finally getting what he’d been wanting for longer than he’d admit to, Clint wasn’t going to last long. Bucky’s metal arm was braced around his back, keeping him close as the other worked Clint over, slower and firmer than Clint would have expected for a plane fuck, while Clint’s toes curled in his boots and they kissed and kissed and kissed.

Fuck, Bucky was an incredible kisser. Clint started panting out short, harsh breaths as arousal flooded his body, tingling over his skin, and Bucky pulled his mouth away to kiss along his jaw to his ear.

“Been wanting to do this for so long,” he muttered into Clint’s ear. “You’ve been fucking teasing me, grabbing at me all along, acting like it’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing,” said Clint breathlessly. He was clinging on to the back of Bucky’s shirt, every drag of Bucky’s hand over his cock sending sparks shooting along his spine. “Fuck, Bucky, it’s not nothing.”

“Damn right it’s not,” Bucky actually honest-to-God _growled_ in his ear, and just like that, Clint was gone, gasping out Bucky’s name as he came.

“Ssshh,” Bucky hushed him as Clint’s orgasm rushed through him. “You’re gonna get us caught.”

Clint didn’t care about that right now, he only cared about catching his breath as Bucky’s hand gently stroked him through the aftershakes of his orgasm before pulling away just before it all got too sensitive for that.

Bucky pulled away, leaving Clint slumped against the door and glanced down at his hand, covered in Clint’s come. “Seems like you made a mess, Hawkeye.”

“Yeah,” said Clint, happily, giving him a grin that was probably more than a little dopey. “Who’s fault is that?”

Bucky shrugged as he grabbed a paper towel and wiped his hand off. “Felt like time to repay the favour.”

Clint laughed, still feeling breathless. “I think you went a bit above and beyond on that one.”

Bucky ran his eyes over Clint’s body in a deliberately slow manner. “Yeah, seems like it.”

“Which means I owe you now,” said Clint, grinning at him.

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah,” confirmed Clint. He straightened up, tugging his pants back into place and doing them up so that when he sank down to his knees, they weren’t in the way. “Seems like I’ve had my hands on your cock a bunch of times already though, how about we try something new?”

“Yeah, fuck, why not?” said Bucky, and he sounded just as turned on and breathless as Clint had hoped.

The cubicle was small enough that Bucky was backed up against the wall so that Clint could fit on the floor on his knees. They were both big guys, though, so Clint was right up close and personal with Bucky’s crotch, which he had absolutely no problems with. He set his hands on the waistband, then glanced up at Bucky and tried something new when it came to going for Bucky’s cock. Asking permission. “Is this okay?”

Bucky was staring down at him with pupils so dilated they looked black. “Fuck, yeah,” he choked out, and Clint gave him a grin before opening his pants and tugging them and his underwear down, out of the way.

“Hello,” he said to Bucky’s cock, which was flushed red and very hard, curving up against his stomach. “It’s just me again.”

“Oh god, you’re such a dork,” muttered Bucky, then abruptly shut up when Clint wrapped first his hand, and then his mouth, around his cock.

Fuck, it really was a nice cock. It fitted just right into Clint’s mouth, like it was meant to be there, and the hoarse moan Bucky made was pretty nice as well.

Clint had sucked a lot of dicks, in a wide range of bathrooms, including a handful of other plane bathrooms, but this felt like more than that. It felt like the start of something.

 _Please let this be the start of something_ he thought as he ran his tongue up the underside of Bucky’s cock, hollowing his cheeks to suck harder at it. As hot as Bucky was, and as much as Clint had been wanting to suck his cock, he wanted more than that as well. He wanted to wake up curled around him, he wanted to fall asleep on him on the sofa during boring movies, he wanted to go out with him and get to make him laugh. He wanted it all, and there was no way one bathroom quickie was going to be enough.

“Fuck, Clint,” muttered Bucky, and he set his hand gently on the top of Clint’s head. “You’re too fucking good at that, I’m not gonna last.”

Clint pulled away to grin up at him. “Kinda the point,” he said. “Attendants are gonna notice if we’re in here too long.”

“Better get on with it then,” said Bucky, and gently pushed on the back of Clint’s head. 

Clint allowed himself to be guided back onto Bucky’s dick, sucking it down as far as he could, which was pretty fucking far, thank you, he had _skills_. Bucky swore again in a tight voice, and Clint took it as a sign that he should pull off and do that again, taking a firm hold of Bucky’s hips as he leaned in close.

“Fuck, fuck, I’m close,” muttered Bucky, so Clint slid one hand over to stroke over his balls and that did it, Bucky gasping out his orgasm as Clint’s mouth flooded with come.

He swallowed it down, because he wasn’t about to get prissy when he was on his knees in a plane bathroom, then sat back on his heels to grin up at Bucky.

“Fuck,” muttered Bucky, rubbing a hand over his face. “Jesus fuck, Clint. There’s no way in hell the attendants aren’t going to know what’s been going on in here.”

Clint shrugged. “As long as you’re done pretty quickly, and don’t leave the place in a mess, they mostly just glare at you.”

Bucky stared at him. “You’re done this on a plane before,” he said, then shook his head slowly. “Of _course_ you’ve done this on a plane before.”

Which meant Bucky hadn’t. Huh, Clint wished he’d known that earlier, he’d have made a bigger deal over popping that particular cherry for him. “Mile High Club, baby,” said Clint, standing up. “Once you’re a member you might as well keep going to the meetings, right?”

“Jesus Christ,” muttered Bucky, pulling up his pants and doing them back up. “Just, you leave first, and try not to look too smug.”

Clint gave him a wink because he was feeling pretty damn good about himself. “I just inducted the Winter Soldier into the club, you really think I can restrain the smug?”

Bucky rolled his eyes as Clint opened the door and slipped out again.

He did get the predicted stinkeye from one of the attendants, but he still had the taste of Bucky’s come in his mouth, so it was going to take a lot more than that to get him down.


	6. Chapter 6

Clint slept for the rest of the flight. He refused to feel bad about that because it had been a shitty mission, he’d just had a really good orgasm, and Bucky’s leg was pressed against his, warm and reassuring. The fact that he woke up just as the plane came in to land to find Bucky awake with a dry-eyed, twitchy look that said he hadn’t slept a wink wasn’t Clint’s fault.

It took Clint until they'd grabbed their luggage and shuffled off the plane to wake up enough to realise that he had no idea what was meant to happen next. He’d had enough post-mission fucks in plane bathrooms to know it rarely meant anything more than a release of adrenalin, and usually he was completely fine with that.

With Bucky, though… He wanted it to mean something. He wanted it to mean everything, which was a heavy thought to be having in the line for Passport Control. Particularly when Bucky was giving no sign that he was having any thoughts about it at all. He was just shuffling forward in the line with the grim, set expression of a man who desperately wanted to be home already.

“Think we’ll get to go back to the tower for a nap before debrief?” Clint asked, trying to get a gauge on what Bucky was thinking, and got a vague, grumpy growl in return.

“Seems like you already got plenty of sleep,” added Bucky a moment later, in the pissy tone Clint was all too used to from people who couldn’t nod off on public transport as easily as he could.

“Sure,” Clint said. “Could do with a bed, though.”

Bucky just grunted without even looking at him, then strode forward as a desk came open. Clint sighed and waited for his own turn, trying not to think about how likely it was starting to seem that the incident on the plane had been a one off. He wasn’t ready to admit that his acquaintance with Bucky’s cock had come to an end with the mission.

They didn’t have any checked luggage, so Bucky strode through the baggage hall like a force of nature with Clint doing his best to keep up, smiling at anyone who looked too terrified by Bucky’s resting murderous glare.

Maria Hill was waiting for them in Arrivals.

“Please tell me you’re not here playing babysitter,” said Clint as she stepped in front of them, halting Bucky’s march.

She raised an eyebrow at him. “Would you have come to debrief if I wasn’t here?”

Bucky sighed and the tight line of his shoulders slumped, as if all the aggression he’d been channelling to get himself through had just run out of him. “Is it really too much to ask for some sleep first?”

“Yes,” said Maria. “You left a mess, you know. The Brazillian government has some questions about an exploding mansion, a fire fight on a train, and a stolen car.”

“I’m pretty sure that car had already been stolen a couple of times before,” said Clint. “It definitely wasn’t the first time it had been hotwired.”

She gave him a glare that made it clear how little she cared. “We need to get your side of things before there’s a diplomatic incident,” she said. “You can sleep after that.”

Bucky let out a quiet, heartbroken sigh, but obediently followed her as she swept out of the airport. Clint trailed after him, wondering if there would at least be coffee at SHIELD. It felt like a very long time since he’d last had coffee.

“I bet together we could take her,” he said, low enough so that only supersoldier ears would hear him. “Steal her car and drive to the nearest bed.” Just the one bed, because Clint really wanted to wake up with Bucky in his arms again.

Just suggesting it felt like walking a tightrope with no safety net, waiting to see how Bucky reacted so he could work out if this was a thing they were starting, or just a really hot interlude that Clint would be jerking off to the memory of for years to come.

Bucky shook his head without looking back. “I should probably wait another couple of years before becoming an international fugitive again. I don’t want to get a reputation for it.”

That was a good point, but gave Clint absolutely no information about what Bucky was thinking about the two of them. Fuck, how long was he going to be stuck in this hopeful limbo, waiting for the axe to fall?

It was just early enough that they missed most of the rush hour traffic on the way to SHIELD. The minute they got to the briefing room, Clint made a beeline for the coffee machine, making one for both himself and Bucky.

Bucky took his with a nod of thanks that still didn’t give Clint any idea what he was thinking because exhaustion was lining his face, washing everything else away. Clint settled beside him at the table, cradling his own mug and thinking that he’d probably need to wait until after Bucky had slept to properly judge whether or not there was anything more here.

That felt like he was offering himself false hope, though. If Bucky wanted their quickie to be anything more, he’d have made it clear by now, wouldn’t he?

“Okay,” said Maria, sorting through a stack of files. “Let’s start from the top. Tell me about the nightclub.”

Clint sighed and settled into the familiar mind-numbing boredom of repeating everything that they’d done over the last few days.

Omitting a couple of bits, of course. It didn’t need to go into a mission report that Clint had shoved his hand down Bucky’s pants, or crouched between his spread legs to stitch him up, or snuggled him while they slept.

Huh, now he came to think about it, this really had been the best mission ever.

By the time they were done, Clint was feeling pretty exhausted, even with his nap on the plane. He couldn't even begin to imagine how bad Bucky must be feeling.

“Taxi?” Clint suggested as they left headquarters, and Bucky nodded.

“No way I’m getting on the subway right now,” he said.

Clint hailed one down and held the door open for Bucky, because he could be a gentleman sometimes.

The driver took one look at them and didn’t bother with conversation, pulling out into the traffic as soon as Clint had told him where they were going. One of the good things about living at Avengers Tower was that you never needed to give anyone directions.

“Not long until you can get to bed,” he said to Bucky, who sighed and slumped against the window, giving Clint a heavy-lidded look that really shouldn’t have been so hot when he was clearly just exhausted but, fuck, all Clint could think about was spending a good few hours wearing Bucky out until he was collapsed bonelessly on the bed, giving Clint that exact look.

“Can’t believe you slept the whole flight,” said Bucky.

Clint just shrugged. “I thought you Army guys were meant to be able to sleep anywhere.”

Bucky snorted. “Not the ones with hypervigilance.”

That seemed fair.

Bucky was still looking at Clint, eyes resting on his face as if he didn’t have the energy to pull them away, and Clint couldn’t take much more of this, because that almost felt like Bucky wanted to be looking at him, which maybe meant he wanted to make this into more than a mile-high hook-up.

“What’re your post-mission plans, then?” asked Clint, feeling awkward and desperate and hating it. “Other than sleeping, obviously.”

Bucky shrugged. “That kinda depends on if I have a bedfellow or not.”

Clint’s heart stopped in his chest. Did that mean…? Could it possibly…?

Fuck, he hated this not knowing _so much_. If he was going to get shot down, then he wanted it done and over with so he could take the hit and start licking his wounds already.

Of course, there was one pretty good way of finding out if Bucky wanted this to happen again. Something that had led Clint pretty well so far, all things taken into consideration. Emboldened by the vague smile on Bucky’s face and the way he was still looking at Clint, Clint reached out, hand aimed for the space between Bucky's sprawled legs.

He didn’t get there. Bucky caught Clint's hand before it had come close to grazing his cock, folding it up in his own. “Yeah, definitely not until after I’ve had some sleep,” he said, then raised Clint’s hand to his lips and pressed a rough kiss to the back of it. “You’re welcome to come nap with me though, if you can keep your hands to yourself.”

Happiness spilled into Clint’s chest, warming him up as a grin spread across his face. Bucky did want the same thing Clint did. He was going to get to have this after all, and not just as a treasured memory of a particularly weird mission. “I think I can probably do that.”

“Yeah?” said Bucky, smiling back. “Because you haven’t given any signs of it so far.”

Clint shrugged. “There’s a first time for everything.”

Bucky snorted in response to that, but didn’t bother replying. They sat in tired silence for the rest of the drive, hands clasped together and both of them grinning like fools.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Reach Out](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19097275) by [Kangofu_CB](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kangofu_CB/pseuds/Kangofu_CB)




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